


Swallow You Whole

by hakanaii



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Caius Snow, Gen, Peacekeepers, Star Squad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-11
Updated: 2013-09-11
Packaged: 2017-12-26 06:45:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/962827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hakanaii/pseuds/hakanaii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It boils down to keeping the masses distracted while the real plot to overturn the government lays brewing beneath the surface. Which is no easy feat with Panem’s tyrannical President hot on their trail. With the addition of their newest member, the Star Squad is eager to ruffle a few more Capitol feathers as soon as they can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Swallow You Whole

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sabaceanbabe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabaceanbabe/gifts).



> Thank you so so much to jeniezee and baronesskika for their support, hand holding, letting me bumbard them with questions and anything else that they did to make this story a success! I couldn’t have done it without you guys <3 I love you ;__; 
> 
> This piece is a gift to sabaceanbabe who prompted the photo of Jena Malone with a wolf mask in a black dress holding a camera, along with another picture of Malone with a wiry butterfly mask. I do hope you like it. I promise there will be much more Johanna and Finnick to come in the next chapters. The Star Squad doesn't loot every masquerade they attend. ;)
> 
> Also: the title is inspired by poet Warsan Shire who wrote: “You think I’ll be the dark sky so you can be the star? I’ll swallow you whole.”

 

* * *

 

Everything gets timed down to a tee. How many steps it takes to get from the basement to second study; how many minutes they have to wait during each interval as the Peacekeepers make their rounds through the East Wing and how many seconds it takes for them to pick the lock on the large, cherry wood desk drawer in Zenas Sterling’s office.

 

However, those seconds turn into minutes as the hands on the clock tick around the golden numbers. Tapping her foot unconsciously, she plays with the excess fabric over the tip of her gloved fingers in an attempt to refrain from checking her watch yet again. She can’t help but catch a glimpse of the circular face as the time reflects off of the moon.

 

They are seven minutes behind. Shit.  
  
“Lark, the hell is taking you so fucking long?” she seethes, the snout protruding from the mask encasing her face cuts the edge off her voice.

 

“These things take time, Jackel,” he sighs, his hands barely moving an inch while his thick fingers carefully twist the tools until the lock clicks.

 

If Volts taught her, like he should have, they would have been done by now. But no. It had to be Peeta. With good reason, of course, since he’s the only one of the two with any patience.

 

“Not seven minutes long! If we don’t get back down there in time, not only are we royally fucked but so are the rest of them!” And not just by the impending Peacekeepers; if President Coriolanus Snow gets his scaly hands on them too, well…

 

Without being able to see clearly through the slits of the mask and with only the moon’s light, her sight is her weakest sense. However, she has a good idea that Peeta just flipped her off. Little bastard. If he gets caught, it’s not her fault.  
  
Knowing Haymitch, he will probably rip her a new one for letting the kid fall through the cracks. Not that this is Peeta’s first heist, but he hasn’t quite been on as many as she has. If he had been reaped sooner, maybe, but who knows who would have been picked for those Games. Peeta may not have been so lucky to have survived them.

 

She can feel her heart palpitate erratically and her hands begin to perspire at the thought of losing Peeta. He’s a good kid and keeps Haymitch from losing every last marble in his skull out in the desert land that is District Twelve’s Victor’s Village.

 

The loud click of the lock has her head whipping around at Peeta. Heavy sighs fill with air neither knew they were holding. The clock continues to tick their time away.

 

Thankfully, a series of roman candles shoot and crackle in the night sky while Peeta slowly drags the drawer along its squeaky rails. Sparks fall into the man made lake as he lifts up a hidden compartment, made of poorly finished cherry wood, revealing a little black box sitting between the walls of the nook.

 

"Ready?" Peeta inquires.

 

Looking down at her watch, she shakes her head and holds up a black finger. Beetee truly had everything measured down to a tee because, just as he predicted, at the 27 minute mark they can hear the heavy footfalls of rubber soles resonate against the floorboards as they make their way towards the second study.

 

Seconds pass like hours.

 

Peeta’s hands are shaking as they hover around the little black box. She knows he wants to grab it, but his clumsy fingers are most likely to drop something and draw attention to their presence. So they wait.

 

Neither so much as breathe until they hear the boots fade off into the distance. Regaining regular oxygen levels sucks away at their precious time like mosquitos to exposed skin.

  
“Lark, c’mon!” she forgets to whisper while Peeta continues to consume more time than necessary as he slides the box out from it’s nook and places it on the desk. “

 

“Hold yer fucking horses, Jackel, would ya?” Peeta chides, his district drawl thick through the beak of his mask.

 

Severing the lock on the box with a knife and a little bit of muscle, he lifts up the glossy lid exposing a silver pouch laying undisturbed on a bed of cushioned velvet. “Look see, it’s here,” he says picking it by the drawstrings, “in my hands. Will ya stop bitchin’, now?”

 

Glowering, she tugs at the sides of her shapeless black ball gown until it bunches around her slender waist and exposes a flesh tone fanny pack. She lifts out the instant camera from its pouch and points the lens at Peeta as he models with the silver pouch.

 

“Say, Star Squad,” she grins.

 

The camera clicks before the flash goes off as the mechanisms inside whirl while they develop photo. Even all covered up in a sleek suit and his birds’ nest curls lay suffocated beneath the rubber feathers of the mask, Peeta Mellark still looks good.

“Damn you,” she calls, flicking the photo at him. She can’t see his sparkling grin or mocking blue eyes but she knows they’re there, tantalizing her. Finnick taught the bastard well. “Bet that smile of yours kills your girl back home.”

 

“I don’t have a girl,” he says, softly.

 

“Okay, that’s fine if you don’t want to tell me. You don’t have to,” she says, putting the camera back, she briefly glances down at her watch.

 

“I’m not lying to you. I have a girl that I like, but I don’t know… it feels like she didn’t know I existed until three weeks ago,” Peeta trails off, snapping the lid shut. Just as he puts the box back and slides the door in place, Johanna realizes something isn’t right.

 

They aren’t due for another round of Peacekeepers for 20 minutes but the room, the hallway, even the courtyard below are too quiet.

 

Tiptoeing against along the creaky floorboards to the heavy, wooden door across the room, the light that would normally be streaming from the hallway, is no longer there.

 

It’s faint but she can hear it; the hum from the laser pointer at the end of gun.

 

“Ja-ckel,” Peeta breathes his finger pointing upwards at the red dot wandering around the ceiling.

 

Shit. Shit. They are beyond royally fucked. More like “We’re-Going-to-Murder-You-and-Your-Loved-Ones-Once-You’re-Caught” fucked.

 

Not that Snow and his men would have it any other way. However being in this predicament again is more than enough for one lifetime.

 

“Guess we better run, huh?” she laughs lightly as red dots cover the ceiling and the safeties snap.

 

“Where?” He inquires as she rolls her eyes at his brainless remark.  
  
Lurching forward, she grabs his wrist as the first round of bullets and chunks of ceiling come raining down on top of them. Tugging him into the closet and shutting the door behind them, she sifts through the potpourri piled haphazardly against the walls in search of a door.

 

The Avoxes are prohibited from walking the halls like human beings, instead, crawling through the cold, wet, asbestos filled walls. It makes her sick, but she has no other choice.

 

Peeta’s lead feet clunk along the cool metal floors as they rush through the tunnels and hidden passageways spiraling them to the basement where Caius made sure there was a room designated for them to collect themselves and dispose of their garments. She doesn’t know how he managed to do that, but she’ll take what she can get. They are lucky to have Snow’s youngest son on their side at all.

 

The echoing foot falls of Peacekeepers stomp above their heads as they rush further and further down. Upon reaching the bottom, they cease to hear the vibration through their heavy panting.

 

Looking ready to cough up a lung, she half carries half drags Peeta down the hallway where a man with a forgettable face waves them into room. Must be their knight in shining armor. Forcing Peeta to take a few more steps, she dumps him into a folding chair once they clear the room and the Avox shuts the metal door behind them.

 

“Is it safe?” are her first words and the Avox nods and stretches out his arms. “Am I to hand you our stuff?” he nods again.

 

Peeling her Jackel mask off first, she takes a deep breath of glorious, fresh air before relieving Peeta of his, letting him take a proper breath. She can feel the sweat between the blades of her short spikes and dripping down her pasty skin.

 

“This is why things get done on time, Mellark,” she sighs, slipping out of her black ball gown and into the elaborate, busty, forest green gown and pressing a black, wiry eye mask shaped as a butterflies wings. Her stylist insisted she wear it tonight; something about it being her date’s favourite?

 

“Did you hear me, Mel—” She asks, lifting her head up only to see Peeta’s anxious blue eyes watching the small television set intently.

 

With the end of summer comes the end to another revolting round of Hunger Games. Being forced to Mentor this year, like every other year since her win during the 69th Games, she knows many of the Tributes by name. Particularly, those in favour to win; which includes the sixteen year old girl who Peeta Mellark refuses to turn his eyes away from. Katniss Everdeen, she recalls Peeta telling her. They have some history that has to do with some burnt bread on a rainy day but Haymitch told her not to worry about it, that the details of the boy’s crush on Katniss are frivolous (“They’ll only make the fall harder,” he tells her).

 

"She ‘s going to make it y’know. Katniss’ll kill that boy from District 2 and take the crown. She’ll go home to her mother, her sister and her “cousin” just like she said she would in her interview,” Peeta bites.  
  
“So it’s her. The girl you like, it’s Kitty Kat,” Johanna nods at the television set. “Get caught up in all the Girl on Fire hype?”

  
Peeta glowers at her sharply before taking a deep breath, “When Katniss wins this and the Capitol demands to see her Talent, you’ll see.”

 

Johanna didn’t want to give him anymore false hope than he has already given himself. With the way her braid flipped from side to side as she bolts across the forest floor towards the Cornucopia in escape of the agile wolf mutts hot on her trail, Katniss may not make it.

 

"Okay, well, since you’re certain about her victory, why not be certain of ours as well, hm? You need to change out of your gear," Johanna reminds him as she peels off her black gloves and fits an thin, wiry, black mask over her eyes. She was getting sick of them real fast.

 

The revolting gurgling noise that can only come from an Avox alerts her attention to the systematic marching filing down the hall.

 

"Shit! Lark, they’re coming! Change fast," she yells, frantically, her head whipping around the room looking for an exit. Her golden brown eyes finally land on a window no larger than a duffel bag. It’ll be a challenge to fit Peeta through but she’s got no other choice.

 

Whipping her head back, she finds Peeta has barely moved an inch, his eyes still transfixed on the final hour of the 74th Hunger Games.

 

"Lark, please, you can watch it in bed with Liberty Styles on a much bigger TV once we get back!" She bellows, unbuttoning his blazer and grabbing the metallic one from the Avox along with his elaborate, flame licking eye mask.

 

The banging of the blunt end of the gun against the titanium door startles both of them. Their fast feet and quick hands shove all the masks and clothes inside a trunk for Caius to retrieve later and before the Peacekeepers manage to separate the door from its hinges.

 

The window is small but Johanna fits through it with ease, even though she practically climbed the wall to get through it. All those hours spent up in the treetops in her childhood paid off.

 

Unfortunately, Johanna can’t say the same for Peeta. With the help of the Avox, he manages to get his shoulders through by the time the Peacekeepers shove their way in.

 

"Freeze," a thick, commoning voice booms. They don’t. Passing the silver pouch from his sweaty fist to Johanna’s open palm, he manages to squeeze his chest and core through and into the crispy, cool night air. Nothing has smelled so sweet.

 

"I said freeze," cried the same Peacekeeper as guns locked into place. The ugly sound obstructing their ears from the cheers of wonderment that is keeping the party at bay.

 

Slipping the pouch into the space between the cloth and her breast, Johanna lends both hands to Peeta as she helps pull him through before the Peacekeepers take their first shot.

 

"The mask," he reminds her frantically. Pulling it out from the tie fastened around her waist. She presses it gently onto his face as he offers her a lopsided smile that she can’t help but to return. Charming through and through.

 

Until his face contorts in agony and those soft, innocent blue eyes flare with pain. In the euphoria for the moment, she missed the sound of the gun making a sizable hole into Peeta’s dangling calf.

 

Harnessing all of her strength, Johanna guides him the rest of the way onto the cool dirt of the garden surrounding the courtyard. He is barely able to make it to his feet when another magazine empties in an attempt to cease their escape. Is shooting the culprit in the leg not good enough?

 

The dead weight and the intense pain of his leg has Peeta stumbling over his good foot along with Johanna’s. They were toast, burnt toast.

 

"We’re almost there, okay," she tells him, more to calm her nerves than his. In the distance, sitting beneath the umbrella of the patio furniture with a bottle of red wine in his hand is  Haymitch Abernathy. His eyes trained on the dark night sky with its billions of stars. Not that much can be seen from here; the Capitol swallowed them whole, leaving only the brightest to shine through.

 

Haymitch doesn’t turn their way until the clap of Peeta’s foot hits the interlock out of time with hers. His drooping, glazed eyes scan them slowly as if he’s unsure of who has approached him. The irony that he doesn’t recognize them either has Johanna cracking a smile.

 

Her smiles fades the moment Haymitch catches the sight of blood beginning to pool around the sole of Peeta’s left foot. The molten silver that swirls in his eyes turn to steel as he makes his way towards them without a stagger in his step. It is as if sobriety is a light switch and he flicks it on and off when he pleases.

 

Once Haymitch gets close enough, Peeta collapses into his outstretched arms in a mess of burning, sweating skin, laboured breathing and blood soaked clothes.

 

"The hell happened?" Haymitch asks, placing Peeta in one of the chairs. "All ya had to do was go in and come out, you’ve done this a million and three times before. What the fuck are you screwing up now for."

 

"They came outta no where, Old Man! All we did was take a few extra minutes and —"

 

Johanna doesn’t have to hear the growl to know its rumbling in his chest. She knows he’ll hold this against her for quite awhile; he might even deem her unfit to run the next operation, which is bullshit. But Peeta is her responsibility and he got shot, regardless of his carelessness.

 

"What can I do to help?" She sighs, certain he’ll just chew her out again.

 

"Tell Finnick he can stop being a pompous ass, then find Caius; he needs to bring the car around. If you run into Volts and Heavensbee out there, as well. Let them know what’s going on." He lists off, ripping the leg off of Cinna’s finely tailored suit to wrap around Peeta’s wound to clot the bleeding.  

 

"I’ll meet you around front in 20?" She confirms.

 

"Yes. Now, 20 doesn’t mean 21 or 25 or even 30. It means 20. So get that ass of yours in gear, sweetheart, and don’t be a minute late," he says, snidely.

 

Had this been any other day under any other circumstance, she’d have laid the snark on thick with her reply. But with her hands still shaking and nerves shot, she doesn’t want to deal with his bullshit right now. Flipping him off, Johannas tells him to go suck Brutus’ cock before she dashes beyond the french doors.

 

The tendrils of Peeta’s staggered voice floats above the music from the ballroom holding her in place just beyond the french doors.

 

"Its not her fault, I got…I got…caught watching… Katniss."

 

Haymitch’s sighs, deeply, “Boy, you gotta leave the mockingjays to fly and let them land where they land. We try to tame ‘em, might as well be starting a war with ‘em.”

 

"Isn’t that what we want?"

 

Haymitch stays quiet for a long while before he gives his answer, ” We gotta ruffle a few feathers first.”

 

Johanna can feel the smirk tug at the corner of her mouth. Ruffle a few feathers indeed. Hopefully, they don’t have any more casualties in the process.

  
  


***

  
  
  


"What do you mean I can’t go back? Just because I made one little…" Peeta shouts from his place on the couch in the District 12 training center suite.

 

Meeting in a highly surveillanced room such as the training centre is the most risky place for them to meet.

 

Since Caius and Plutarch roped together their squad of starlettes six years ago, President Snow has been hot on their trail - livid with the way they have escaped beneath the radar every time. Except tonight. While the Captiol claps their hands and giggles over the spectacle, there is no doubt that the President who monitors the movement of every citizen in the twelve districts will have made the connection between Peeta and the masked man in the Lark mask. Careful can’t begin to describe how cautious and meticulously they’ll have to be next time.

 

However, Beetee assured them they have more than enough time to have their meeting and get back to their rooms in time without raising suspicion.

 

"You could have gotten yourself killed! Hell, those bastards killed the Avox in the bunker without a second thought!" Caius Snow yells back, his thin fingers curling into a fist as them slam onto the mahogany table. "If Johanna weren’t there you would have been as good as dead."

 

The warmth that comes with pride (or maybe the wine) flows through Johanna’s body. At least someone appreciates she efforts. Lifting her golden brown eyes to Haymitch with the intention of rubbing it in his face, she discovers he’s gone. Scanning the main living area he is still nowhere to be seen.

 

“I like you, Peeta, I really do and I’d hate knowing that the one thing you couldn’t survive was a gunshot wound.”

 

"So who’s gonna take my place then? Your main attraction, Finnick Odair?  Haymitch with all of his fancy footwork and shaking hands? Beetee? Plutarch? You, Mr. Big Shot?” Peeta bites through gritted teeth, his eyes seething.

 

"Actually…"

 

"No. No way. No," Johanna protests shaking her head. "I’d rather take my chances with the Old Man than with you.”

 

"You flatter me, Ms Mason, truly, but you’re lucky I refuse to be seen crawling through a dusty, dirty mansion littered with the potential for cancer. I got my shot this winter but still…"

 

"And you insist I’m the prick,” Finnick scoffs from his corner as he loops a strand of rope into complicated knots only to disassemble them again.

 

"Anyways, we’ve unanimously decided to replace Peeta with a brand new member of our team," Caius’ cheshire grin nearly stretches off his face in his excitement.

 

"New memb…" and the realization catches fire in Peeta’s eyes as they burn like flash paper.

 

With him in and out of consciousness for the past week, Peeta missed the big announcement of Katniss’ victory. Which shocked Johanna with how right he was with his prediction. His girl killed that boy from Two with only the slightest mercy as he was shred limb from limb by those wolf mutts in the mouth of the cornucopia.

 

With the final hour being just as much a bloodbath as day one which, coupled with the recent escapades of the Capitol’s masked vigilantes, the Capitol has been in a giddy, overzealous stupor, making the scowl on Katniss’ face permanent. She doesn’t bother making an exception for either her mentor nor her soon to be partners in crime. The closest she comes is when those silver eyes meet Peeta’s; even then, she is apathetic at best.

 

"Sweetheart, and this is part of our incredibly dysfunctional family," Haymitch announces with an untrustworthy grin. "I warn ya now, no one here bites. Well okay maybe Johanna on occasion …"

 

Haymitch’s quib falls on deaf ears as Katniss’ attention remains undivided on Peeta’s smouldering face.

 

"What?" Katniss’ raw voice barks at him, her silver eyes narrow in a glare.

 

"You don’t know what you’re getting into," Peeta snarls.

 

"I think I do, do you?" She cocks an eyebrow at his extended leg wrapped in a brace. Finnick snorts.

 

“This isn’t like hunting down a squirrel, picking some berries or bartering some goods,” Peeta frowns. “This is legit and dangerous. You just got to keep your life, do you really wanna gamble it all away again so soon?”

 

"Then why do you do it?" She asks, cooly.

 

"I…I…" Peeta’s mouth gapes as the cogs in his brain depict the best answer. "I got tired of being a star swallowed whole so thought it’d be nice to ruffle a few feathers."

 

"It does sound nice, doesn’t it," she answers, curtly and shuffles closer towards the rectangular table and takes a seat between Beetee and Caius, the scowl forcing its way back onto her face.

 

“Congratulations on your success, Katniss, my darling. It’s an honour to have you join our little party, ” Caius beams, his shining periwinkle eyes dance with delight as they lift to greet her and his thin, pale hands clasp hers.

 

Her infamous braid sweeps along her shoulders as she turns from Caius to Haymitch, her eyes flooded with inquiry. Haymitch breathes a heavy sigh as he falls into a chair beside Johanna.

 

“Sweetheart here has a condition before she said she’d be our Mockingjay.”

 

“A condition,” Caius drawls, his white, perfectly shaped brows arching into his hairline in disbelief.

 

"Yes," she confirms, straightening her back."It’s about Peeta." Four pairs of eyes flicker towards Peeta, who looks as taken aback by Katniss’ words as Johanna, Finnick, Beetee and Caius. "He needs to be removed."

 

"Removed? From what, the room? The team, if so, I think they, did a pretty good job of already doing that for you so you’ve got nothing to worry about, sweetheart,” Peeta replies, motioning to the group by the table.

 

Glancing over her shoulder, Katniss’ gaze locks onto his as they swirl with irritation and anxiety. Neither person so much as blinks as tension crackles between them.

 

"That’s only temporary, though," she mumbles while her fingers idly play with the end of her braid.

 

"You want me to be permanently off the team?" The shattered look in his eyes lasts only a second but Johanna doesn’t miss it.

 

"Yes."

 

"Why?"

 

"Because…" those silvery eyes drop down to her fumbling hands. "I owe you a debt and this is how I intend to repay it."

 

"If this is about the bread…look Katniss…it was no big deal, really," Peeta’s angular face softens and blue eyes calm.

 

"You saved my life, and the only way I can come anywhere close to repaying you is by saving yours."

 

Caius gasps while Beetee nods; Finnick looks up in interest but only half his mind is focused as his hands continue making knots. Haymitch runs a hand through his unkempt jet black curls, heightening Johanna’s awareness. Suddenly, those details he refused to share are not so frivolous anymore.

 

"There is nothing you need to save me from," Peeta insists, gently.

 

"That’s why you have a hole in your leg, Peeta," Katniss bites.

"Ooh, looks like Kitty Kat brought out the claws," Johanna teases, earning her an icy stare from Katniss’ tired, empty, gray eyes.

 

"Katniss, darling, while I am completely in favour of Peeta keeping his life, it’s unreasonable to request he permanently leave our team. We need every member of our group to run smoothly. Can we compromise?" Caius continues to beam. "You take Peeta’s place alongside Johanna and he will take a lower risk position during the operation. How does that sound?"

 

"Considering that was the plan all along, it sounds a little stale now," Johanna smirks as a pillow hits her in the back of the head.

 

Katniss sits there, barely breathing or blink as her eyebrows knit in concentration.

 

The clock ticks seconds like hours.

 

"Alright," her voice calls out startling Finnick out of his nap. "I’ll do it. I’ll be your Mockingjay."

 

"Fantastic," Caius chimes. "Welcome to the Star Squad."

  
  
  


***

 

  
They sat in silence for a day and a half, much to Peeta’s chagrin. Who does she think she is making demands like that, especially when he’s been doing this all for her?  
  
Good people, like most of those who live in the Seam, don’t deserve the ill-treatment they get from the Capitol. Getting up at the crack of dawn to trudge down to the mines where they drop deep into the shafts to chip away at rock that no longer contains any coal. Then proceeding to risk their lives further as they tunnel deeper into the ground just to make the Capitol’s outrageous quota and a few coins an hour.

 

When Haymitch came to him with the proposal to join the Star Squad, he agreed instantaneously. He was finally going to get his chance to make a difference, no longer a pawn on the Capitol’s chess board but a knight. However, Katniss’ condition has put him back at square one.

 

“You just gonna sit there and mope, boy, or are you gonna go talk her outta her little idea?” Haymitch chimes from the doorway as if he read Peeta’s mind.

 

“I’m thinking how to do it,” He wasn’t completely lying. He had been thinking of striking a deal with her but most of his thoughts were consumed by his irrational anger at her decision.

 

“I’ll let you in on a little tip. Katniss has no idea what she’s gotten herself into. She’s not sure what she’s protecting you from other than a Peacekeeper’s gun. Maybe…you could give her a nudge in the right path?” Haymitch hums around his glass of scotch as he lounges along the sofa in the main den.

 

“She didn’t listen before, what makes it different now?” Peeta huffs.

 

“You know her angle. Counter her proposition. Make her see that you’re her best option when it comes to protection. I won’t be insulted if you use me in your comparison,” Haymitch smirks.

 

"Any last piece of advice, oh wise mentor?"

 

"Oh, cheeky aren’t we? Hmm, let me think," his gray eyes roll to the beautifully painted ceiling. "Don’t give her another reason to make her feel like she owes you because I guarantee it won’t be so easy to get out of."

 

"Yes sir," Peeta salutes in mockery as he lifts from the plush chair only to stop at the exit. "Do you know where I can find her?"

 

"Off to a great start, Mellark."

 

"Bite me."

 

"Maybe it’s good you won’t be hanging around Johanna anymore; she’s clearly rubbing off on you," Haymitch nearly grins. Rolling his flustered eyes, Peeta leaves the train car in pursuit of Katniss only to discover it wasn’t as extensive as he thought.

 

With her fingers tugging at the end of her classically woven braid and her back facing the door, Katniss stares with a scowl at a spot on the carpet across the hallway.

 

“Katniss,” her head picks as at the sound of her name but the scowl stays the same as her vacant gray eyes harden.  
  
“Glad I found you,” a smile curls up onto his face. “There’s something … we need to talk about.”

 

“I agree,” she says, pushing herself off the wall and looking him straight into his dancing blue eyes. Reaching out she boldly grasps a hold of his wrist and guides him down the winding hallways to her assigned bedroom.

 

“Y-you want to talk it about it here?” Peeta stutters, his eyes darting around her quarters. Katniss sits down on the chair at the hatch desk, back straight, as Peeta takes a seat on the made bed. He tries to focus on anything else in the room other than her smoulder gray eyes, her crimson lips and flawless olive skin. Like always, Remake worked its magic but this time without being grandiose.  

 

“Yes, we have more privacy here.”

 

“Alright.”

 

“When we start the Victory Tour in the Winter, I don’t need both you and Haymitch to come with me,” her words cut like a cookie cutter through dough. He can almost feel the words that are ready to spill from her lips next. “So, I’d like it if you came with me.”

 

Maybe not.  
  
“P-pardon?”

 

“Haymitch told me it’s relatively easy work, lot of hanging around. Even though travelling will be tiring there is a lot of sitting involved in the Mentor’s role.”

 

“But I wasn’t your mentor,” Peeta confirms, like she has lost her head.

 

“I know. But the last thing you need is another life threatening injury and I can’t make sure that doesn’t happen unless I’m looking out for you.”

 

Freshly lit anger burns through his veins, feeling his pride begin to bruise. Haymitch was, surprisingly, right; Katniss has no idea what she’s saving him from,“I can take care of myself y’know, I’ve had far worse things happen to me than getting a bullet to the leg.”

 

Peeta can see the flicker of thought course through her eyes as she comes to recall an instance where things were far worse for him than his current predicament. He can feel a gentle tingle in his arm from where the girl from One sliced open his arm with her knife all those years ago. Surviving the blood poisoning would have been impossible had he and his district partner, Brooke, not teamed up.

 

“All the more reason to be on a moving train than in Victor’s Village, which is closer to the mines than you think,” Katniss says, curtly. “Also, I talked to Haymitch about mentoring next year and we agreed that you and I will be the ones to do it.”

 

Peeta blinks, his mouth fighting against the smirk that wants to curl. Oh, how he wishes he were sitting in that leather seat longer; anything to avoid another night with Liberty Styles and a demonstration of her atrocious singing. She could learn a thing or two from Katniss.

 

“Is that it then, or are there other demands you’d like to make of me?”

 

“Don’t make it sound like you’re inconvenienced by them,” she glowers at him. “I’m doing this for your benefit!”

 

“Doesn’t look that way to me; you just sound like some greedy little girl who wants me all to herself,” Peeta wants to eat his words the moment he says them and kick himself for taking a page out of Finnick’s leather bound notebook. Though, another part of him doesn’t regret it, he truly wouldn’t mind being on the other side of Katniss’ selfish intentions.  
  
“Get out,” she roars, raising from her seat and pointing to the door with one of her lovely painted nails. “You’re unbelievable, Peeta! I’m doing you a favour!”

 

“I don’t need favours from you. Let me just keep doing what I’m doing and we’ll both come out on top,” he sighs. With his head hung low, he takes his leave from her room and head back down to the common room from where he came only to cross paths with Haymitch. Great. Just who he wanted to see.

 

“Guess it didn’t work out so well, eh boy?”

 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Peeta attempts to brush past Haymitch, but his arm swiftly shoots out, stopping Peeta in his tracks. The wretched smell of day and a half old clothes soaked in sweat along with the stench of vomit and whiskey fills the space as Haymitch leans in close, his lips almost touching the shell of Peeta’s ear.

 

“We’ve got big plans coming. Despite what your girl wants, we won’t be able to do the next bit without you. You’re the only one capable of carrying out. So give into her now; it’ll only be temporary,” Haymitch whispers. Peeta can feel the palpitation in his heart quicken with anticipation. Just when he seems down and out, Haymitch bounces back with a cunning strategy.  

 

Peeta’s face glows with excitement as he pulls out of Haymitch’s bubble of toxic fumes,desperate for any insight he can get.

 

“See, that’s the kind of irresistible, honest charm she loves. None of that romantic, mysterious foreigner crap Plutarch insisted would be a hit. She is only eleven after all,” Haymitch doesn’t bother trying to hide his wolf grin as he mouths the answer the question that is written all over Peeta’s face.

 

Sophie Snow. Their next big plan was to steal the heart of the President’s precious granddaughter. Having achieved unsatisfactory results regardless that of their recent victory, running an infinitely greater risk by targeting Sophie, upping the stakes, only sweetens the deal. It’s an odd thing to consider but Peeta couldn’t wait for the Victory Tour.

 

* * *

 


End file.
